


the red in me

by brodylover



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Battle, Hurt/Comfort, Red Templars, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a few of the younger mages go to dorian for learning, not realizing that there are red templars exploring the forests surrounding Skyhold. He gets taken to the Emprise, where all sorts of nasties want to learn what they can about the Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. fire and lightning

it was a simple training exercise, some of the younger, unschooled mages coming to him for a couple pointers. He’d smiled at that and twisted the tip of his mustache into shape and did not gloat or give a side-eyed glance at Fiona or Vivienne as he accepted. To think, young Ferelden mages, just freed from the circle to fight against their captors, turning to a Tevinter Necromancer for tutelage. He had to stifle a laugh. 

Still he followed the young mages, who would in other parts of the world be reviled for their gifts, out of the new holding pen they’d placed themselves and out into the forest beyond. It wasnt far, Dorian could still see the damaged fortress walls from the forest, but no stray chicken would be caught in a misguided fireball, at the very least. 

Most of their robes were torn and stained, their staffs nothing more than a channeling crystal atop a long enough stick, and Dorian placed a mental note to see if he could get some proper supplies in for mages. The Inquisitor was working on building them a tower, they would need resources to match it. 

Some of them new barrier spells and almost all of them had some control over fire, so Dorian helped them with healing and binding weapons. Barriers were decent, but you couldnt win a war with them alone. Wars were fought with weapons and people, and what he was going to teach them would give them both. 

He wasnt as good as Vivienne at binding weapons, liked to fight from a distance, but he still could when pressed. Some of these youths had the potential to be better than him at than. For healing though, he was proficient, although he was rusty at it. He showed them his arms, how the veins and tendons overlapped inside, and helped them understand how to stitch things under the skin. 

Apparently, this was too boring, as Maevis sent out a bolt of lightning up into the sky was fooling around in the back. 

Dorian ran a hand over his face, groaning as he looked upon them. Maevis was good, could be the most skilled out of those there, but he lacked grace and patience and would rather play around than learn. 

“Excuse me. I believe you asked me to be here.” Dorian didnt compliment the lightning, which was was well formed and straight, not varying as it snaked up. “If you’d rather play around with magic, I can leave you with Fiona instead.”

Maevis and his friends stopped at that, turning to Dorian in a stance of attention. They wouldnt look at him. “Yes sir, sorry sir.” they said in unison. 

Dorian soften. He was speakign too harshly. These were children, they deserved their fun. This were children who were frightened of the adults around them, told that messing up would lead to punishment, that not being good enough would lead to tranquility. Dorian didnt want them to be afraid of him. 

He sighed, let any tension fall from him, and straightened his back. A few more minutes of anatomy and then we can take a break to spar, alright?”

All of the young mages smiled at that, nodding vigorously. At least he could give them that. 

Or at least, he thought that he could. 

They hadnt even gotten through the difference between veins and arteries by the time there was a sound in the forest, attracted by the lightning Maevis had let forth. It was a rusting, then a neighing, and then Dorian’s attention was off his wards and onto the trees. There was something out there and his suspicion moved from him to the others, until all of the youngsters were whispering and looking for whatever was making such noise. 

Then the templars screamed out their orderes and they charged the small troop. Dorian caught the flashes of red in them, the lyrium pulsing in between the seams of their armor. 

“Run!” Dorian shouted, bringing up his staff and throwing down fire mines and barriers, slowing the templars down, but not stopping them. He didnt want to kill them, not in front of children. He definitely didnt want to raise them, because that would worse than the stories the mages had heard of the harrowing. 

He stepped back, trying to keep distance as he became more offensive, throwing out fireballs, and horrors, driving the closest of the red templars into a frenzy. 

Lightning crackled and ricocheted, directed from templar to templar through their armor. It wasnt strong enough to kill, but it pushed them back, and it hurt, and they were all staring. Dorian turned too. 

Maevis was sweating, his staff just a crystal and some stones tied to a length of oak, and there was no way that he could keep up the battle. He hadnt listened to Dorian, he hadnt run back to Skyhold, and now he was going to be the death of them both. 

Dorian stepped in front of him, throwing up a new barrier. He was starting to feel light headed, sweat dripping down his neck. He was running low on mana. He was going to do something drastic; and soon. 

“Get back to Skyhold!” he grimaced,” throwing out a wall of fire that made lights dance before his eyes. 

“What about you?” Maevis trembled, ready to dash.

“I’ll be fine. They cant take me down.” Dorian laughed, put on a brave face, tried to hide his fatigue. Maevis must have understood, because he did as Dorian said, leaving him to the approaching platoon. 

There were too many of them though, and Dorian was too low on magic. He did what he could he was sure that he took at least one of them, before they overwhelmed him. Swords were raised, shields bashed down on him, and then he saw red and nothing more after that.


	2. Laughter and Sobs

the Chargers were a rowdy group, so much so that they’d been kicked out of the tavern on many occasion, but even now it came as a surprise. Taverns were supposed to be rowdy! There were people and beer and song and merriment, all the ingredients for a good comradery fight. Still, they had been kicked out, and were now walking as best they could to the training yard, Rocky and Krem wrestling along the way. 

There were training dummies, but those were nothing. They wanted fun, not practice. Weapons were tossed aside, as was armor, and Dalish and Skinner rammed into each other, all hot breath and shoving arms, too scrawny to do any really damage. The Iron Bull chuckled at the sight of them, pushing against one another, trying to knock each other down with mere strength alone. He kept an eye on Rocky though, he was getting good at uppercuts, shoving them into ribs whenever he could. 

Cassandra was there, as usual, practicing, and she rolled her eyes and left, not wanting to accidentally cut one of them. 

“Hold up, Cass!” The Iron Bull threw out an arm. “Why dont you join us?”

She made a disgusted noise, “it would be unfair to beat on a drunkard, wouldnt you agree?”

They were drunk, most of them anyway. Iron Bull wasnt, but it was still early, the sun not having even starting to set yet. The smell of alcohol was still strong in the air though, and the drunkenness was just getting worse with the exercise. 

Cassandra was marching off, not waiting for his response, her sword not yet sheathed. Then she straightened, hearing something, her grip shifting on the hilt. And she was running. 

Iron Bull hadnt heard it, not over the rambunctious chattering and fists against flesh. That didnt matter. Something had Cassandra spooked and he was right on her trail, eye wide to see what she’d heard. 

It was children. They were crying, scared, running into Skyhold. 

He spun, bad knee almost twisting as he did so, into the courtyard, seeing a small handful of mages standing there, clinging to each other, heaving from a long run, tears and mucous streaming down their faces. 

Cassandra was with them, as was Cullen, and a handful of soldiers. The mages were trying to say something, but they were scared, both of what they were trying to say and of their audience. They were all templars, or close enough, and the mages had been outside of the fortress walls. 

“Calm down.” Cullen had his hands out, trying to settle the youngsters down. That just made it all worse though. 

There was one though, a bit more worn than the others, a bit older, taking up the rear, still running to meet with the group. That was the one The Iron Bull needed to talk to. He left the crowd, shoulders relaxed, neck long, he didnt want to appear any more intimidating than his size made him. 

The boy stopped, gulped, and looked up at him. He was pale, shaking, and the crystal in his staff was flickering, ready to throw out some spell or other. 

“You... You’re the Iron Bull.” the child blinked, looking faint. 

The Iron Bull kept his hands at the ready, uncertain if the boy was about to faint from his exertions. “That I am. How do I call you?”

“I’m Maevis.” the boy gulped again, looking out at the other mages, seeing Fiona rush down the steps to join them in the courtyard. 

“What happened?”

Maevis’ eyes were glued on Fiona though, even in the distance. 

“You’re not in trouble.” The Iron Bull reassured him and Maevis breathed a bit easier, looking at him. “Just tell me what happened.”

“We were practicing, got Dorian to teach us things outside the wall. It was just simple stuff, nothing dangerous, nothing for real fighting. And there were these Templars. The bad ones. The red ones. And he got us out of there. He saved us.”

“Where is he?” The Iron Bull couldnt stop the rumbling growl in his throat, his eye from searching the courtyard, trying to find any sign of the ‘Vint.

Maevis joined the other mages then, big wet tears pouring down his face, collecting at his chin. 

The Iron Bull tried to calm himself. It was no good scaring children, especially not ones trying to help you. 

“Where’s Dorian?” He asked, calmer. 

Maevis shook his head. “They took him...”

The Iron Bull gritted his teeth and squared his shoulders, not bothering to tell anyone what he was doing before racing towards the Skyhold gate. He had no weapon on him, no Chargers at his back, and no support. He was a fool if he was to find Doriann on his own, like this. Still, he left the fortress, to the forests beyond, to search for the necromancer. 

There was no sign of him, nor of the Templar’s that had taken him, at least not at first. It was further in, and, without the young mage’s help, he would never find the trail. 

His heart was pounding, his heart racing. He didnt know why the templars would want him, why they wouldnt just kill him where he fell, but they had. That was bad news for everyone. That didnt explain the worry though, or the pain in his chest. He and Dorian were friends, perhaps, on a good day, but nothing more. 

He turned his back on the forest. He was going to need a party for this. All the while that he trudged back towards Skyhold, he couldnt shake the worry or the ache.


	3. Ice and Stone

He opened his eyes but that hardly mattered, it was still dark. There was something over his head, something holding his hands behind him. His staff was gone, as was his ability to do magic. Something was stopping him, somehow. He could still feel it, but it was far away. If he tried hard enough he could get to it, but it would be a lot of work and it would hurt and he wouldnt get much out of it. 

He was pulled to his feet, pushed forward and he went sprawling. He could hear the red templars laughing at him as he fell, tearing the knees of his street robes. They werent made for combat but beauty and now they were ruined by tears and blood. He doubted any of them would care though. 

A strong hand pulled him up and then was at his back, pushing and prodding him in whatever direction it willed. The world grew colder and quieter and he was sure that they were inside of a cave or somewhere with stone walls. He shivered, his robes no where near warm enough fro such a place. It had been freezing outside as well, but he’d been close to the red templars then and they gave off far more heat than normal men. It was cold enough to snow outside. 

The bag was pulled off of Dorian’s head and he breathed, reeling as he looked around himself. It had been days, it had had to have been, because he had been right outside Skyhold and now he was so much further away. 

“The Emprise?” he asked, staring at the bulks of red lyrium growing out of the fortress walls. He had never seen such growths of the stuff anywhere else. He wasnt answered though, just shoved down the stairs, forced deeper into the dark coldness until the only light came from the red stones themselves. 

They were in the dungeon. They must have been, for there were cells dotting the walls and private rooms for confinement and interrogation. He kept his head down though, his eyes on his feet for fear of falling. He’d been in the back of a wagon the entire journey, only relieved to stand when they stopped for a piss. Even at those points he hadnt been privileged enough to see and he had soiled his nice suede shoes almost immediately. 

There were people in those cells. He could hear them. He tried not to look at them though. They werre sobbing, mostly, a few praying. One was chanting in some elven dialect that he didnt recognize the words from. 

There was more lyrium here, in the amounts that he had seen in that horrible dark future. This was where it was starting then, where the bulk of the problem lay. He didnt need to look to know that some of those imprisoned here had the glowing stones growing from them, through them. 

He was taken to the very end of the hall and that was when he raised his gaze. There was a man there, a commander of some kind, one of those horrible behemoths on either side of him. 

The man leaned forward in his chair. Dorian did not recognize him. There was lyrium growing from him though, tipping his ears, crackling through his beard. 

“You. You’re with that blasted Inquisitor, arent you?” he glared. 

“I like to keep good company.” Dorian smirked, raising a shoulder, “Although normally I like being on a first name bases before we pull out the ropes.”

Either the man had no sense of humor or wasnt in the mood, it didnt really matter. “Last room on the left. Dont get me until he’s done with his foolery.”

Instead of being untied, Dorian was pulled into one of the private rooms. It was larger on the inside than expected, a slight corridor bringing it further into the fortress. It was red too. There was Lyrium growing out of most of the surfaces but along with that were the pools of blood, half coagulated and staining the stones. 

“Well, that cant be sanitary.” Dorian remarked, trying not to look at the blades and tools left out in the open, rust damaging their points. “Seriously, you should really clean that sort of thing up. You never know, you’re bringing mages in here, torturing them, doing all sorts of nastiness, you have to be careful about the blood. I’ve heard a lot about your blood mages down he-

One of the templars punched him in the mouth, not allowing him to finish his sentence. that was just as well, he didnt know where he was going with it and his tone had just been rising in a bout of panic anyway. 

The rope at his back was cut and he found himself shoved back, one of the templars holding him up by his aching jaw. There was wood behind him, and steel, and he forced up against it, limbs maneuvered into place before being locked in. His legs were spread, further than shoulder width and his arms were slightly raised, all limbs forced straight. The metal was cold against him, colder than the air that made his breathing into clouds. 

“What’s that bastard planning?” the templar, whose hand was still on Dorian’s jaw, demanded, squeezing.

“Well, I rightfully dont know.” Dorian admitted, “I havent been on speaking terms with my father for a good long while now.”

That got him another hit, this one against his nose. Suddenly everything felt open and airy, the cold seeping into his sinuses as his blood seeped down his face. He knew who they meant, of course he did, but that didnt mean he had any plan to tell them.


End file.
